


Fullmoon

by Cinder_Dargor



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, True Blood AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 14:31:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11534190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinder_Dargor/pseuds/Cinder_Dargor
Summary: Meeting a real werewolf has become Stiles Stilinski´s biggest desire since the day these creatures went to televisions around the world to show that they were real and thanks to Fullmoon, a drink made by Japanese scientists, they are unable to cause any harm to humans.Stiles was about to leave Beacon Hills to search for one of these beings, until Derek Hale crosses the doors of Whittemore's.Yes, it's a True Blood AU





	Fullmoon

**Author's Note:**

> Basically the a union between two series that I love... I took the name Fullmoon from a song by Sonata Arctica.  
> Hope that you like it!

It seemed to be another one of those nights when the wind noise and the gathering of a few drops of rain with the ground would be the height of the bustle in Beacon Hills. This, of course, without regard to the mind of Stiles Stilinski, the seventeen-year-old boy who, in addition to his rapid and nervous thoughts, could no longer control his telepathic abilities and ended up listening to some considerations here and there. None of this would happen, of course, if he had not decided, once again, to embark on a reading about werewolves last night, making his exhaustion at the moment more than his self-control.

 

‘’STILINSKI!’’ A howl of hatred echoes through the little bar.

 

An athletic-looking blonde figure stands in front of the brunette, who just prays that the nervousness will not make him knock down the trays.

 

‘’Jackson.’’ Stiles mutters, smiling and shaking.

The classmate, who at that moment assumed the role of boss returns the same smile and begins to throw a river of complaints at the waiter. At first, Stiles tries to focus on the rosy lips that move with speed and shoot the hurtful words, however, in a lapse of carelessness, he invades the mental privacy of his boss.

 

‘’This is the third time this week that someone complains about your services, I do not know why my parents insist on keeping you here!’’ Jackson shouts, in a clear sentence that ends up taking the smallest out of his mind. "Either you get better or I'll castrate your little piece of shit, are we clear?"

 

Stiles nods. He understood that customers were not satisfied with his work and that Jackson was going to try to have sex with Lydia in his imported car in the way back home. And that, of course, was the worst part of his gift. The truth that was tied to him. This whole Lydia and Jackson thing was driving him crazy, thanks to the remnants of his crush on the girl ... Another reason to lock himself in his bedroom and spend hours reading about the werewolves.

 

He remembered, oh yeah, that night when he and his best friend, Scott, returned from school and were bombarded by a television that advertised in hysteria that werewolves were real. Stiles could still see himself in that room, he could feel Scott's hands gripping his shoulders, he could stare the disbelief in his eyes. Japanese scientists discover a formula capable of inhibiting the transformation of werewolves during the full moon, thereby healing all the dangers that once forced this supernatural species to hide in the shadows and live in silence. Yes, it had been the best headline that television had ever announced in its history, Stiles doubted that something so wonderful could happen again.

And since then, he dreams of the great moment. The one where he could meet a real werewolf. More than seven years ago, the world was graced with the escape of those creatures from the twilight, yet Beacon Hills had never been gifted with the presence of a miserable werewolf. A setback? Perhaps, it did not matter much, because Stiles knew that he would find a were lost there, and, for the first time, he would not be the only freak in a place… And that will be ... The best thing that ever happened in his life.

The gift of reading minds. That's how his parents liked to call. But the rest of the city would rather use it as a proof that Stiles was either a big liar or a freak. The boy did not understand why he had received this ability ... Unusual ... After all, he had already been decorated with a leaner and more childlike body than the other boys ... There were the freckles and his impulsive way made him talk more than he should ... He knew he could use that in his favor, as he had often done, yet he would give everything to be a normal teenager.

 

The short-haired and dark-haired boy had just served the desk of the stupid coach Finstock when a stranger passed the front door. The air went out. Stiles bowed his head to try to recognize the man in vain. He was supposed to be living the better part of his twenties. Stiles felt his legs tremble with such beauty and he just could not move or stop staring at him.

 

The mysterious man was dressed in dark jeans and a leather jacket. While he strolled through the place, alone, his body moved in a way ... Absurdly sexy. Surely he was the star of that little restaurant covered in noisy wood and working reliant on mahogany tables that seemed to want to break in half. A chill ran down the spine of the Stilinski, it was in those kind of moments that he hated being a damned virgin who was full of hormones. Tanned skin, hair and beard black as feathers of a raven ... A body, by what the clothes showed, that make Jackson and his gym seem like a big joke.

Finally, after a scene that seemed eternal, the man settles in a chair that leaves him near a small window and not far from Stiles. His hands slide down his dark strands, he spends about five seconds analyzing the place, until his eyes fall on the poor waiter quivering next to him. It is at this moment that the lines of expression that already showed certain rigidity should open in a large smile, but the stranger keeps his face serious, calling for Stiles with a slight nod.

Paler than usual and still weak, Stiles addresses the new client, ready to try to listen to some of his thoughts during the process ... It would be things easier for his process of relieving himself while thinking about this stranger later. However, all his attempts to rape the man's privacy are in vain ... It was as if he were a large pit containing only one carcass. Even frustrated with his failure, Stiles lightly touches the older man's desk and casts a small smile on his side.

 

"Will not you bring me the menu?" The client asks with a slight arch of eyebrows.

 

Stiles grunts in frustration and pulls the menu out of his apron´s pocket. Now, looking at those clothes that only stood out the beauty of that man was that Stiles could notice how the set of torn pants, polo shirt and a battered apron made him even more ridiculous. He mentally thanks Whittemore's for contributing to make his life increasingly miserable.

"You will not want to eat the meat, you know. I mean, not that our cook, Danny, is not good at what he does .... But, is that always the same piece of shit and .... Well, you're a new customer here ... It's not a good impression of our diner.’’ He says eagerly, trying to get the council back so it does not sound so disastrous. "Coming from far away? It's been a while since I've seen anyone new in Beacon Hills ... Not that there's anything very interesting around here, but I always create great expectations ...’’

 

 

The man just blinks twice, as if he's not being able to keep up with what he's being told.

 

"I thought the same about my city when I was your age.’’ The low, husky voice of the stranger cuts Stiles. "I thank you for your honesty, Stilinski, but I can not deny to my stomach a good piece of steak ..." he completes, keeping his posture serious and reading the name that is embroidered on Stiles's apron.

 

 

"You can call me Stiles." The boy says, without thinking too much. "Believe me, grumpy, the steak comes swimming in blood and-"

 

 

‘’Grumpy?’’ He asks, managing frown even more.

 

"Well ... I ..." Stiles whispers as he screams all the bad words he knows in his mind ... He and his big mouth.

 

 

‘’ My name is Derek Hale.’’ The stranger introduces himself with an acid smile. "And yes, Stiles, I'm going to want some bad old-fashioned steak, made by your friend Danny, okay?" The tone of voice gains strength as each word is uttered.

 

 

Stiles swallows hard.

 

"Very well, Derek ... And will you want anything else?" Stiles asks, trying to redeem himself with the client.

 

 

‘’A bottle of Fullmoon.’’ Derek says in an almost inaudible tone, lowering his head.

 

Stiles widens his eyes, he feels the absurd need to scream and his heart races. Of course, the Whittemores bought some bottles of the magic liquid made for the werewolves a while ago ... However, deep down, no one was waiting for someone to show up to drink it.

 

‘’Anything? Like rice or…’’ Stiles asks, trying to come back to reality ... It was not possible ...

 

‘’Just the steak and the bottle of Fullmoon.’’ Derek repeats, without raising his face to look at the waiter.

 

"Are you sure that you want Fullmoon? I have friends who tried to drink it because it takes some alcohol, but really you have to be a werewolf to do it without throwing up.’’

 

Calmly, Derek looks up, leaving Stiles face to face with the most beautiful pair of blue eyes he had ever seen. Derek Hale was definitely a werewolf.

 

‘’Yes. ‘’He grunts firmly, almost as an unspoken request to be left alone.

 

 

Stiles does not even note the request, just walks into the kitchen while looking for Scott with despair.

 

He had met a werewolf. The werewolf of his fucking life, perhaps! And, perhaps, he'd spoiled everything by calling him grumpy ... He wanted to scream, hit someone or cry all night.

 

"A raw piece of meat without anything and a bottle of Fullmoon for table 8." He practically howls in the small kitchen that was slightly damp, catching the attention of cook Danny Mahealani and his almost brother Scott McCall.

 

 

"Every night a different freak in this place ..." Danny grunts, continuing to fry potatoes.

 

But Scott, the kitchen assistant, drops the onions he was cutting and runs to Stiles, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him lightly.

 

"Is it really a werewolf?" He asks nervously.

 

"I saw his eyes, Scott.’’ Stiles murmurs, in a happiness it does not fit in him.

 

Scott stops and tries to assimilate that.

 

‘’But, take it easy, okay? I know how you feel ... With the mind reading thing but you do not need a dumb wolf to make you feel better ... People are much more than humans, telepaths or werewolves.’’

 

"It's not like I'm going to throw myself on his lap.’’ Stiles complains, even so he pulls his friend in a hug. "Oh, and no, I can not read his thoughts.’’

 

‘’What?’’ Scott exalts himself, releasing his companion immediately.

 

"It must be some power of theirs that I've never heard of ... But it's a feeling of great comfort.’’

Scott nods and Stiles leans against the grubby kitchen wall. Well, it would be comfortable enough to talk to a person who did not force Stiles to control his telepathic impulses all the time ... Too bad his body decided to feel an uncontrollable desire for the only person with that trait in miles. Damn hormones. If he were straight ... Well, Stilinski reflects, if he really was straight he would not feel anything for Hale ... But, it would really be a big loss to his mouth, not feel a werewolf inside ...

 

‘’Here, Stiles.’’ Danny announces, putting what he called food in a plate.

 

Stiles takes a deep breath, puts the plate and the bottle on the tray, and returns to Whittemore's hall, where he knew Jackson must be snorting like a bull in revolt because of the time Stiles has wasted in the kitchen.

The approximately 500 ml bottle was transparent as vodka and had a wolf howling at the moon drawn on its sides. A simple object, but that could be the key to Stiles's happiness.

 

‘’Hello, Derek. I brought your request here’’ Stiles says, serving the table with his hands shaking.

‘’Do all the people who work here make a point of trying to sleep with the costumers? Or am I really a lucky one?’’ Derek shoots in a sea of sarcasm.

 

Stiles frowns, wondering when it was that he let his desires pass through Derek Hale. But the wolf points to his colleagues Crystal Black and Helena Harris.

 

"Oh." Stiles smiles. "It's new meat in Beacon Hills, Derek ... You know what small towns are like ... You came from one, yes? By the way, you did not say where you were from ...’’

 

"You smell strange." Derek cuts him off one more time.

 

"Well, a long time coming in and out of the kitchen from what I would ever call a five-star restaurant… You could ask Jackson for a job, I bet you would love smell like me’’ Stiles answers, slightly offended.

 

Derek glares at Stiles with his eyes, as if he was telling him that he knew he was hiding something. In fact, that chatty waiter had puzzled Hale. Stiles wanted to stay there, keep talking, or at least try to keep a conversation with that fascinating being, but Jackson dragged him into his service.

 

Time went by so fast. Suddenly it was time to close and Stiles had taken the last order. As he turned to table eight, looking for Derek, he realized that the were had already left the establishment, leaving the young man quite disappointed. Not that he expected Derek to wait for him with flowers and chocolates, but he was expecting that at least he could still look at him one last time.

 

Stiles sighs, feeling all the magic of the night broken. It was too good to be true. He wonders when he will be able to see a werewolf again.

**Author's Note:**

> So? Should I keep going? BTW, English is not my native language, so I´m sorry for any possible mistake


End file.
